


O is for the only one i see

by ohpleaselarry



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Crying, Cuddling, Denial, Friends to Lovers, Hurt!Ethan, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry
Summary: After being just friends for years, it takes one conversation for three hours in a hospital for Mark to realise he’s in love with Ethan
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 35
Kudos: 674





	O is for the only one i see

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I have four different fics that are halfway written that I’m trying to work on all at once. Not bc I’m trying to meet a deadline, but bc I have so many ideas and want to write them all at once 😭 
> 
> •*• signals the start and end of a flashback!!!

He was recording. 

Usually, he has his phone on silent while he records. Sometimes he leaves it on if he’s expecting a call, but it’s almost always on silent. 

It wasn’t today. Whether it was an act of whatever god may exist, or perhaps just a coincidence, his phone was on ring. 

Which it did. Ring, that is. 

“Hello?” Mark pauses the game, not bothering to remember to check the caller id. He doesn’t get many spam calls. His number is an unused one just to prevent that. If he’s getting a call it’s from someone he’s given the number to. 

Usually, anyway. 

“Mr. Fischbach?” It’s a man, a voice he doesn’t recognise. He pulls the phone away from his ear to check the number. It’s an unsaved number, just some random LA area code number. 

“Who is this?” 

“This is the UCLA Medical Centre. Your friend, Ethan, he’s been in an accident.” 

-

He feels like he’s floating. Like he might blink in a weird way and everything will come crashing down. He can’t feel his legs. Is that normal? Shouldn’t he be able to feel his legs? 

“Nestor, it’s spelled like it sounds.” Mark finds himself snapping. He’d probably notice he’s being rude if he could hear himself over the loud ass pumping of his pulse in his ears. There’s people everywhere. Doctors and nurses and crying family members all over the damn place. 

“Okay, have a seat, someone will be down to talk to you soon.” The woman at the counter says. 

“What? Why? Don’t you have the information there?” 

“I’m not qualified to inform—“

“Is it because he’s dead? Do you have to wait for a doctor because he’s died? You have to tell me, I can’t, I can’t—“ Mark clutches the counter, eyes squeezing shut. He’s going to fall, he’s going to fall over. 

“Sir—“

“Just fucking tell me anything!” Mark shouts. 

Silence. It’s deafening sometimes. It’s weird how a lack of sound can be so loud. 

Mark looks around the lobby at the people staring. They’re giving him a face he’s never been given before. Like he’s some sort of monster. Like he’s that rude lady screaming about her coupon being expired in the grocery store line. The girl at the counter’s hands are shaking, eyes wide. She’s frightened. He’s frightened someone. 

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually..I’m just scared. He’s my...he’s—“

“Mark Fischbach?” A doctor approaches him holding a clipboard. He places a hand on Mark’s shoulder and leads him away, down the hall a bit and into a quieter area. There’s a few people strewn about. Some crying, some sleeping, and all waiting. 

They sit at one of the couches. The doctor hands him the clipboard. 

“My name is Dr. Bosnia—“

“Is he okay? Is he alive?” Mark feels like he can’t breathe. He might actually pass out. 

“He is alive,” Mark can feel the relief flood through him at the doctors words, “but he is pretty badly injured. His car was t-boned on the drivers side by a large truck. He was unconscious on arrival. He has suffered a broken wrist, dislocated shoulder, four fractured ribs, and a lot of bruising and cuts. His head was bleeding so we took him in for a head CT.” 

“Okay.” Mark runs a hand down his face, stomach turning as he pictures it. He can’t even imagine the scene. Can’t imagine his friend in such bad shape. 

“That’s not all. When we gave him the CT we found a foramen magnum meningiomas tumour. This is a tumour within the large opening at the base of the skull. Tell me, has Ethan been experiencing any headaches, stiff neck aches, numbness anywhere?” 

“Oh my god. No? I mean, I don’t know. He doesn’t complain, I don’t, I’m sorry.” Mark rubs at his eyes with his fists, trying to remember anything. Ethan cringing in discomfort from a headache. Asking for a pill. Rubbing his neck. Shaking his arms out. He can’t think of anything. Can’t think of a single noticeable symptom. 

“It’s alright. Sir, I’m sorry, but we must operate right away. His tumour isn’t cancerous and it is benign, but if left untreated it could be life threatening.” 

“Okay, do it then!” Mark blinks in confusion. Why is he here talking to him instead of operating? Why isn’t he in there getting this tumour out now?!

“I need your consent. I will perform a posterior fossa craniotomy to remove the tumour. I’m sorry, but there are risks included. Nerve dysfunction, facial palsy, deafness, paralysis, stroke or death.” Dr. Bosnia’s face is stern. He taps the clipboard in Mark’s hand. 

“Why me? Shouldn’t his parents give consent? I’m not..we aren’t related.” Mark looks down at the consent forms with wide eyes, heart racing at all of this information being thrown at him all at once. 

“His parents have been called, but you were listed as Mr. Nestor’s next of kin. If he is unable to give consent, you are the person who must.” 

“Why would he list me? Why not his parents? His brother? I don’t understand.” 

“I’m not sure, but please. The operation can take up to six hours.” 

Mark exhales shakily and signs the papers with blurred vision.

“Okay. I will send someone to update you if needed. Restrooms are down the hall and vending machines are on the second floor.” 

Mark barely hears the guy. He leans over his lap and closes his eyes once he’s alone. He tries to breathe evenly. He tries not to think about it. About a tumour in his best friend. About a brain tumour in his broken bone’d friend. God. 

He shakes as he starts to cry, curling into himself a bit. He’s always prided himself in being strong. Everyone knows him as the strong one. The one to lean on during rough times. The one to cheer up a sad room. 

This? He hasn’t felt like this since his father fell sick. This crushing unsure feeling. He hates not knowing what comes next. He hates that list of risks that fly around his head a mile a minute. He hates that the last thing he said to Ethan was so shitty. He wishes he could take it back. 

A hand on his shoulder startles him. He looks up to find an elderly lady has sat next to him. She looks like she’s been crying recently as well. Mark hadn’t even realised how badly he was crying. He finds it hard to find a breath. 

“Here. This will help.” She lifts a brown paper bag to him, removing a wrapped sandwich from the bag first. 

Mark holds the bag opening over his nose and mouse, breathing into it, watching the bag rapidly inflate and deflate with his hyperventilating. Somehow, it does help. His breathing slows. His tears lessen. His muscles relax. Until he’s back to a normal state. He hadn’t even realised how bad he got. He remembers reading something about the paper bag method. It’s something to do with the visual of it. Seeing his breaths. He can’t remember. 

“I’m sorry.” He says to the woman, mustering up a thankful smile as he returns the bag. She drops the sandwich back in and places it on the floor. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know,” Mark shrugs, wiping his wet cheeks, “I haven’t had one of those in quite some time.” 

“It’s alright, we’re all having a bit of a shit day here, nobody’s judging.” The woman sighs. Mark looks at her in surprise, and finds himself huffing a laugh. She grins, patting his back comfortingly. 

“Mark.” He holds out a hand, kind despite himself, even when he feels so out of balance. 

“Harriet. So what’re you in for?” She seems to be trying to distract him. Usually, Mark would be kind of annoyed at strangers bringing up conversation as he’s more of an introvert, but he’s thankful for it right now, as it’s stopping the imagination in his head. 

“My friend Ethan. Brain tumour, apparently. What about you?” 

“My husband Peter. Heart transplant.” 

“Big surgeries.” Mark exhales, running a hand through his hair stressfully. It’s quiet for a moment. He remembers yesterday again, closing his eyes and seeing the sadness on Ethan’s face all over again. Was that the tumour? Could the tumour have caused what happened yesterday to happen? 

“So why is Ethan mad at you?” 

“W-what?” Mark looks over at Harriet with wide eyes. Was he talking out loud? 

“You just look really guilty. Sorry, I’m a retired councillor, I can’t help it.” She shrugs sheepishly, eyes studying him like she can see right through him. 

“It’s a long story. A long..confusing story.” He sighs, leaning back in the seat. Harriet adjusts her own position, eyes still on him. 

“Well..doc did say up to six hours, we got time. Go ahead, start from the beginning, I’m a great listener.” 

Mark chews on his lip, and for the first time since he arrived, he looks closely at the other people in the room, something he would’ve already done by now in a normal situation. Usually, it’s the first thing he does when he enters a new room. A sleeping lady, an old man reading a newspaper, a young man listening to music in headphones, and a teenager playing candy crush on her phone. Do any of them recognise him? Does it even matter? Does he even care at this point? Ethan could die. He could be dead in the next minute. 

“The beginning? Well..it all started as a _what if_ .” 

•*•

“Okay, hear me out—“

“Mark, what?” Ethan shuts his front door after Mark blatantly shoves his way in. He blinks like he just woke up. Right, it’s like 7am probably. 

“What if we made a self destructing channel?” Mark scrambles around Ethan’s house, searching for a pen and paper. He finds one and sits at Ethan’s table. The boy sighs and puts on a pot of coffee, then sits next to him. 

“What are you on about? Aren’t you supposed to be filming more heist today?” 

“Yes, but that’s later. I can’t sit on this any longer. I want to make a self destructing channel. Daily uploads, each one more obscure and weirder than the last, then after one year, we delete it all!” 

“We?” Ethan asks, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to do it alone.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Ethan smiles, eyes all sparkly. 

“Okay, so why delete it?” 

“Alright, so think about it. It’s a new channel. No care for demonetisation, complete creativity freedom. I was thinking about how death is inevitable and I think each video should have that at the core..” 

-

Ethan sets down his empty mug, eyes wide. They both stare down at the paper in front of them. Many things marked out, ideas crossed out and rewritten, but two things prevail through the hours of planning. Two things that stay on the paper, uncrossed. 

A drawing of an hourglass, and the words ‘Unus Annus’ written in all caps, circled three times. 

“So when do we start?” 

“Well..heist is taking up most of my time right now, but I was thinking November?” Mark taps the table as Ethan refills their mugs once again. 

“November.” The boy repeats. Their eyes meet, an excitement building in both of them. 

November.

•*•

“Thank you.” Harriet smiles as Mark hands her the hot chocolate. She holds the cup with both hands, eyes closing at the warmth. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Hun, I’m always cold. I’m old.” She maintains a serious face for a moment, before she starts to laugh. Mark follows, thankful for the joy in such a depressing place. The room could really use more windows, he thinks. 

“Well, now I have something to look forward to.” Mark says with a teasing smile. She rolls her eyes, setting down her hot chocolate to let it cool, and turns back in her seat to face him, looking interested. 

“So..you started in November?” 

“Yeah. It was chaos, we were so eager to do everything we’d planned.”

•*•

“Okay, Ethan, chill out. We can’t record the whole year today.” Mark says as Ethan adjusts the cameras for the two truths and a lie video. 

“I’m excited! Don’t kill my joy, Mark. Aren’t you having fun?” 

“God no, I’m regretting this idea already.” He replies, lying back on the couch dramatically. He’s nearly already done preparing their first video. Funny enough, looking at the spiral background as he edits for an hour isn’t the best thing for his eyes. 

“Ah, lies. You love this. It’s all the shit we could only dream of doing on our channels.” Ethan says as he fiddles with the package of wax strips. 

Mark smiles, unable to deny it. It’s true. This is pretty fun, after all. He does love it, to be fair. And Ethan, well, he was definitely the right choice for this channel. He’s just the right amount of confusing chaotic energy that was needed for this type of thing. He’s great. 

Mark would never tell him that, of course. Can’t let his ego get big, right? 

•*•

“So what was the turning point?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you don’t go from being happy good friends to feeling guilty without reason. Something had to have changed. There was a turning point. Do you know when it was?” 

Mark doesn’t need to hear more. He knows exactly when it was. The exact date. Maybe could even narrow it down to a certain time of the day if he wanted to. 

“It was the first day we recorded after quarantine.” 

“Why that day?” 

“Well, the videos had gotten rather boring, to be honest. We were out of ideas by the first month, so when quarantine _actually_ ended? We were kinda dead inside. We thought the light of the channel was over. We didn’t think recording actually in person would bring that magic back. It wasn’t just that, though. Something changed. I can’t really explain it..”

“Give it a shot anyway.” Harriet encourages, sipping at her hot chocolate. 

“Well, we hadn’t properly seen each other in months, and we were never really the hug each other hello types..”

•*•

“We aren’t the hug each other hello types, we don’t need to film a reunion video. We just saw each other last week!” Mark sighs, resting his head stressfully against the passenger side headrest. Evan rolls his eyes from the drivers seat. 

“Oh, stop it. That hardly counts. Six feet apart with masks on for a five minute visit is barely seeing each other. We’ll make it like a cheesy movie scene. Run into his arms, pick him up and spin him, maybe?” Evan grins, the evil bastard. 

“Fine, I’ll message him..”

“No, don’t! He acts funny when he knows there’s a plan. It’ll be so much better to get his genuine reaction.” 

Mark frowns but ultimately agrees. They pull up to Ethan’s building. The city is more active than its been for months. It’s crazy to notice how used he got to empty streets and death tolls. The second wave of the virus hit really hard. 

“Here.” Mark sends Ethan. The boy steps out onto the entryway concrete within a minute, squinting through the sun in his eyes at the car. 

“I really gotta spin him?”

“They’d love it.” Evan’s already recording, smiling innocently. 

With a deep breath, Mark steps out of the car. Ethan watches him from the doorway. Suddenly, Mark’s nervous for some reason. It’s weird, he doesn’t usually get nervous for this type of thing. Singing on a stage, sure. An important charity stream, yeah! A reunion with his friend that he just saw last week? 

Why is he nervous?

“Go!” Even stage whispers. Mark sighs but finally complies, arms outstretching as he breaks out into a run. 

“Ethan!” He calls dramatically. The boy realises what’s happening right away and copies him, running as well. It’s not that long of a distance. 

They crash into each other, giggling stupidly, and Mark spins him just a bit. Once they settle, he sets the boy back onto his feet and pulls away. Their eyes meet. 

Something shifts. 

He’s not sure exactly what it is. He hasn’t properly seen Ethan in months. Every visit they’ve had was less than five minutes, essential, and with masks and distance. He’s seen Ethan over FaceTime while they record plenty, though. Through the stream when he’s checking to see what he’s up to sometimes. 

It’s different now. Ethan’s smile slowly fades. His hair’s growing back, tickling at his ears. The sun shines right on him, somehow making his eyes just..really blue. 

Mark doesn’t know why but he pulls him in again. Ethan doesn’t seem to mind, hugging him back just as tightly. He forgets there’s a camera on them. Forgets they’re just outside where anyone can see them. 

They don’t hug just casually, but things have changed. The world has changed. He feels like they have even changed. They haven’t physically touched anyone besides their dogs for quite some time. 

“Missed you.” The boy murmurs quietly. 

Mark wants to say it back, but he pulls away instead, laughing awkwardly, eyes flicking over to the camera he only just remembered exists. 

“Want an autograph?” He says. Ethan rolls his eyes but pulls his neckline down like he’s asking for a tit signature. It’s a good bit. Breaks the ice a little. 

The plan is to do pee sauna pretty much first thing. It’s probably the most requested thing for when quarantannus ended. It was the plan, anyway. 

“So I sent it to my mom! Not the tinder girl.” Ethan sighs exasperatedly. 

“I would say that’s your own fault, but I could see how you’d get ‘mom’ and ‘molly’ mixed up.” 

They laugh. Ethan tips his chin back, finishing off his beer. Mark watches, clutching his sparkling water tightly. Ethan looks different. His hair’s longer and he got more into fitness as stay at home extended, but it’s not really something strictly physical. 

Mark just kinda wants to touch him. Not in a sexual way, he’s pretty blatantly straight, obviously. He just wants to hug him again. It’s probably just the lack of human contact. 

Evan snores particularly loudly from the recliner, and they both giggle quietly. Mark hasn’t had any alcohol, of course, but he’s getting a sort of second hand silliness from Ethan’s tipsy antics. 

That’s what he’ll blame it on. Definitely. 

Leaning forward, he sets his water on the table and pulls Ethan into another hug. The boy makes a small noise of surprise but quickly recovers, hugging him back, nose cold when he presses it to Mark’s neck. 

His heart slams in his chest. What is happening? Why is he doing this? 

“Wha—“

“Don’t..just—just one.” Mark interrupts before Ethan can question him. It’s certainly not their normal thing. 

Ethan smells nice. He also just feels nice. He’s a pretty great hugger. 

God, Mark feels like he’s going insane. 

“You okay?” Ethan asks as soon as they pull away. They don’t go far. Ethan stays right there, hand not dropping from his arm. 

“Fine. It was just mentally shit for the last few months. Didn’t realise how much I just platonically touched people everyday. Even just a handshake.” 

Ethan chews on his lip, looking over to Evan like he’s making sure the guy is still asleep.

“You wanna do something that would help us both, but we wouldn’t have to speak about ever again for as long as we live?” 

Mark blinks in surprise at the question, wanting to pull away but decidedly not. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever. 

“Um, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think Evan wants to record a porno.” 

“Fuck off. Here, lay down,” Ethan rolls his eyes fondly, pushing at his chest. Mark leans back on his elbows hesitantly, “don’t you trust me?” 

“Definitely not.” Mark says, eyebrow raised. Even as he sasses, he’s laying down, head back on the armrest of the couch. 

“Okay, it’ll be nice, just trust me.” Ethan stands up and dims the lights to nearly dark. Then, he turns on the tv, switching it to some random animated movie with dinosaurs. 

Finally, he steps up to the couch. He reaches down and lifts Mark’s arms, then crawls just right onto him, fitting between him and the couch. 

Cuddling. They’re fucking cuddling. That’s Ethan’s master plan? 

“Ethan, what—“

“Just relax. Give it a few minutes.” Ethan murmurs, head on his chest. Mark lies stock still for a bit, hands still above his head. 

After five long minutes, he looks over at Evan to ensure he’s still asleep, then he lowers his arms. One under his head, the other onto Ethan’s back. He closes his eyes and relaxes. 

After an additional ten minutes, he sees how this is helpful. He’s never been the cuddling guy, but then again he’s never had a casual cuddle bro session, so it’s all new. 

It’s nice, though. Really nice. Ethan’s not even slightly heavy, but his weight on him is like a weighted blanket. A feeling of comfort. Warmth. Security, in a weird way. When Ethan laughs at whatever movie is on, it sends a weird zip of joy right into Mark’s heart. 

He starts to rub circles into Ethan’s back. The boy responds by humming and shifting just slightly so his leg is thrown over Mark’s. 

If anyone were to walk in, they would look like a couple. If Ethan’s knee was 2 inches over, he’d be pressing onto Mark’s dick. If he lifted his head, there’d only be mere inches from kissing. 

“Relax.” Ethan mumbles. Mark doesn’t have to wonder why, because the boy places a hand on his chest over his heart. He realises his pulse has increased. Is it because of how embarrassed he’d be if Evan woke up and saw this? Or because the thought of those inches being closed makes his mind fall blank? 

He isn’t sure. 

Closing his eyes, he just listens to the movie and the sound of Ethan’s breathing instead. He draws shapes and words into his back gently. Eventually, Ethan’s breathing falls even, deeper. 

He lets his hand wander up and comb through the back of the boy’s hair a bit. Still platonic? Where’s the line? 

Somewhere in there, he falls asleep. 

•*•

“So when did you realise you were in love with him?” Harriet asks. 

“What?! I-I’m not—“

“Mark, it’s okay.” She places a hand on his arm. He looks around the room to see if anyone’s eavesdropping. They all just sit doing their own things. He remembers what he said the other day. The last time he and Ethan spoke. His eyes fall closed, the guilt swarming through him once more. 

“Ethan had forgotten we had to record..”

•*•

Mark steps into the weirdly quiet house. 

“Ethan?” He calls, setting down his equipment bag and the coffee he brought onto the table. It’s quiet. Normally Ethan’s sat at the table waiting, or he’s in the kitchen making snacks. 

Mark walks through into the living room, and his stomach flips when he finds him sprawled out on the floor. 

“Fuck, Ethan?! Ethan!” He falls to his knees and places his fingers onto the boy’s neck to check for a pulse. 

Ethan’s eyes flicker open and he slowly sits up. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, blinking in surprise. Mark places a hand over his own heart, trying to steady it. He can smell it, now. Can see it in Ethan’s smiling for no reason. In the red around his eyes. 

“Are you high?” 

“Yeah, you want?” The boy answers simply. He lies back down, blinking up at the ceiling. Mark’s seen him high before. He gets weirdly relaxed in a way his ADD ass never is sober. He’s also a bit handsy. 

“You know I don’t smoke.” Mark murmurs, lifting Ethan’s hand from his leg and putting it where it belongs. The boy pouts at him. 

“Shit, is it recording day?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine though.” Mark sighs, standing up and heading back to the kitchen. He walks back with their coffee’s and stops in the doorway. 

Ethan’s lifted his hands up over his head, eyes closed again, his shirt ridden up to reveal a few inches of skin. 

Mark sets down the coffee’s and drops to the floor, laying next to him. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs. It’s kind nice down here, actually. 

“Wanna cuddle?” Ethan asks. Mark lifts his head to look at him, laughing. 

“Thought we weren’t going to talk about that ever again?” 

“It was nice, is all.” Ethan mumbles. He’s still in the same position, eyes closed. The ceiling lights shine onto him, his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. Mark takes a staggering breath. 

He scoots in closer, intending to pull him in for the cuddle he wants, but he only gets as far as a hand on Ethan’s waist before the boy’s eyes open. 

Eyes staring right into his, Ethan stretches his arms up further, hands over each other as if he’s tied up or something. His shirt rides up even more, disappearing from under Mark’s hand on his waist. 

Mark glances down, at his hand on Ethan’s bare skin. He gulps nervously as he slides his hand up further, making the shirt bunch up, his whole torso being exposed by the second. 

Ethan’s legs spread a bit for some reason. Their eyes meet once more. 

What does he want? Well really, what _doesn’t_ he want? Because Mark might be leaning up over him. He might just place his hands on Ethan’s wrists, actually restraining him now. 

“Please.” Ethan whispers as soon as his wrists are held down, his chin lifting, mouth opening in anticipation. 

Mark doesn’t hesitate. He lowers his head and presses their lips together slowly. 

Ethan makes a desperate noise, back arching to press up against him. Mark’s free hand wanders down, hooking under Ethan’s knee and lifting it up. The new angle is good for both of them. 

Mark can’t remember why he shouldn’t do this. Can’t even think. He moves his hands from restraining Ethan to just the floor, holding himself up. As soon as his hands are free, the boy is touching him. The back of his neck, down his chest and arms, then he just starts to palm him over his joggers. 

Mark pulls away with a surprised noise, but only leans in again, pressing kisses on Ethan’s neck. His mind is nothing but _hot hot hot_ , unable to form a single comprehensive thought. 

“Fuck, please Mark.” Ethan whines, still touching him over his pants. 

Mark isn’t sure exactly what he’s asking for. He lifts his head up and kisses him again. The boy’s hand pull away from the tent in his joggers and instead play at the waistband, then slip inside. 

As soon as Ethan’s fingers actually wrap around his dick, Mark pulls away. When their eyes meet again, Ethan looks dazed. His pupils dilated, mouth red, hair disheveled. He’s fucking hot. 

“Okay, don’t freak out.” Ethan says, eyes widening. He pulls his fingers away and places his hands on Mark’s chest instead. 

“I’m not gay.” Mark replies, heart slamming in his chest. He might have a heart attack. 

“Mark—“

“What’re we doing?!” Mark pulls away, standing up completely so they aren’t touching anymore. 

Ethan follows, a bit slower. He stands up, wobbling a bit, then looks down between them. Mark follows his eyes, and finds he’s sporting a rather obvious hard on. 

He swirls on his feet and immediately makes a beeline for the door. 

“Don’t go!” Ethan calls after him. 

He leaves without another word. 

•*• 

“You ran.” 

“Yeah, I ran.” Mark picks at a loose thread on his jeans, decidedly not telling Harriet about the intense wank he’d had once he’d gone home, unable to think of anything but the way Ethan had touched him. 

“It happens more often than you’d think. Friends becoming more. It’s not something to be scared of.” She tells him, picking off a piece of blueberry muffin. Mark just plays with his own, appetite nonexistent right now. 

“Well..neither of us were— _are_ gay. At least, I’m not. I always suspected Ethan might be at least a little open to guys but I never wanted to find out.” 

“So you’re guilty because you kissed him and found out you don’t feel that way?” 

“No...it’s what happened a week later, also known as two days ago.” 

•*• 

“Here for your equipment?” Ethan asks as a greeting. He doesn’t look him right in the eyes. 

“Uh, yeah.” Mark replies, stepping into the house when Ethan lets him in. He’d run off in such a hurry last time that he’d forgotten his bag. The one holding all of the cameras and microphones. 

“It’s on the table.” Ethan says dryly, then walks over to the kitchen, where he seems to be making mac and cheese. 

Mark steps over to his bag, gripping the straps, but he stops. 

“I’m sorry. For what happened. It was a mistake.” He says, looking over at him. Ethan doesn’t respond, just stirring the pasta. 

Mark sets the bag down and walks into the kitchen, crossing his arms, looking over Ethan’s shoulder into the pot. 

“I’m not leaving until we fix this. We’re almost out of videos and we can’t record like this.” 

Ethan sets the spoon down and turns to face him, leaning against the counter. 

“Why did you kiss me?” 

“What?” Mark asks, taken back by the kind of angry tone Ethan’s sporting. 

“You just said it was a mistake, and last time you said you weren’t gay, but you hadn’t even smoked. _You_ kissed _me_ , not the other way around.”

“Why’s that matter?” 

“Because you made the move, and now you’re saying it’s a mistake. So did you mean it or not?” 

Mark’s stomach turns. He looks away. Away from Ethan’s piercing glare and his hair that’s clearly frizzed up from running his hands through it too much. 

“If you meant it then why are you so desperate to tell me you didn’t?” Ethan takes his silence as an answer. 

“I didn’t say I meant it.” 

“Well did you?” 

“No.”

“Look me in the eyes and say it.” 

Mark feels his jaw clench. He looks up from the floor, meeting Ethan’s stare. He’s never seen the boy stand up for himself like this before. Never seen him pissed off in a serious way. Never seen him so..in control. 

“I’m not gay.” Mark says, digging his nails into his sides where he’s crossing his arms. It’s for the channel, he tells himself. He’s only doing this so the channel can live. 

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say.” Ethan says, looking away as he steps closer, moving back in front of the macaroni so he can stir it again. 

Mark wants to touch him. 

“It’s the same thing.” He murmurs, watching Ethan watch the pasta. 

“It’s really not but it’s fine. We record on Thursday, right? I’ll come over then.”

Mark doesn’t move to leave. Ethan seems to be actively ignoring him, stirring the cheese sauce into the macaroni. 

“I..didn’t want to kiss you.”

Ethan sighs, setting his spoon down. He turns off the eye and turns to face him. 

“Okay.” He says expectantly. 

Mark looks into his eyes, heart racing. He opens his mouth stupidly to say it again, but there’s nothing compared to trying to lie with eye contact. 

He exhales, breath catching. Ethan frowns and steps in, pulling him into a hug. Mark stops crossing his arms and wraps them around the boy, holding him back tightly. 

“You don’t have to lie. It’s okay to want it. It’s not a crime to be gay.” 

“I’m not. I don’t.” 

“Fine, you don’t.” Ethan’s voice cracks. Mark pulls away to find he’s sporting glossy eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?” 

Ethan just pulls away. Mark doesn’t let him go far, turning them and picking Ethan up onto the counter. The boy blinks in surprise. 

“Why are you still here? You convinced me, okay? You didn’t want the kiss. Just leave.” 

“I can’t.” Mark says, stepping in between his legs. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” He tentatively reaches up, wiping Ethan’s tear away. The boy lifts his own hand, pulling Mark closer by his shirt. 

The man presses their foreheads together, free hand gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles are white. 

“It’s okay to want it. It’s okay.” Ethan whispers, eyes closed in anticipation. Mark lifts his chin, brushing their lips together but not yet kissing him. 

“I c-can’t.” He whispers in reply, heartbeat loud in his own ears. Ethan makes a noise and does it himself, depleting the mere centimetres between them. 

Just like the first time, all of Mark’s fear washes away. His grip on the counter loosens. He places his hands on Ethan’s thighs and pulls him in so they’re touching as much as possible. Ethan’s legs wrap around his waist, his hands tugging on Mark’s hair desperately. 

He can’t fucking think when this happens. Can’t remember why he’s so scared to want him. 

Ethan’s hands move over him again, touching everywhere he can, making these breathy noises every time they reposition the kiss. Mark feels like he’s on fire, desperate to be closer even with no space between them. 

Wants to be in him, the closest he could be. 

He pulls away with a gasp, watching Ethan open his eyes dazedly. His lips are red, his shirt disheveled.

“Don’t pull away. Please.” The boy says, legs tightening around him. 

“Ethan..” Mark starts to pull away, but Ethan stops him with a hand on his cheek. 

“Mark, I want this. I want you. Why are you so against it?” 

“I’ve never wanted to be with a guy before. This isn’t..it can’t be real. I’m just, like, horny or something.” Mark blabbers on. Ethan tilts his head in confusion, the lights hitting him perfectly. God. 

“Sexuality isn’t just one or the other, you know—“

“I’m not gay!” 

“Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?!”

“Cause it is!” Mark exclaims, “id lose subscribers. They’d think I was lying to them or something. They expect me to be with some girl.” 

“You’re joking, right? Your fans have wanted you and Sean to be together for years, you really think being with a guy will faze them at all? I didn’t think your masculinity was so fragile.” 

“That’s not..I’m not like you, okay?” Mark finally pulls away, his mind finally clearing up now that they aren’t touching. He just can’t fucking think around him lately. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m not, like, the type of guy to paint my nails or thirst over my friends—“

“Wait, what? Thirst over you?” Ethan repeats incredulously. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve been following me around for years, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was just some weird crush you have.” 

He doesn’t know why he says it. He’s never been the mean type. And to be fair, a lot of the shit he’s said thus far isn’t even true. He’s painted his nails on multiple occasions now. Shit, he spent a whole episode of unus annus confessing his love for zach efron. That’s hardly straight, right? He’s just, well, really he’s just scared. 

Scared to admit that his feelings go further than sex. Scared to give himself up for Ethan just for that chance that it doesn’t work. Then the channel is ruined. Their friendship is ruined. Then he doesn’t even get him as a friend. 

Truly, he’s just scared of fucking up, and now he’s gone and done it anyway. 

“Fuck you. You kissed me, remember? I’m not the one with the fucking weird crush.” Ethan slides off of the counter and walks out of the kitchen. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t follow me around, I just mean—“

“I don’t care. Please just leave.” Ethan stops at the table, picking up Mark’s equipment bag and handing it to him. 

“Ethan, I—“

“Get out!” Ethan shouts, eyes tearing up again. Mark’s never seen him so hurt. The boy shoves him out of the door, slamming it closed once he’s out. 

Mark presses his forehead to the cold wood, feeling guilty. It wasn’t even worth it. God, them breaking up would’ve been far better than offending him. Why did he say that? Sure, he helped Ethan along in the beginning, but he earned everything he’s gotten. 

Instead of begging Ethan to come inside, he leaves shamefully. 

•*•

“Was he a fan or something? Of your YouTube or whatever?” Harriet asks, rubbing his back as he cries. 

“Yeah. It’s always been a joke between us. I moved him to LA and he dyed his hair like I did. I’d never used it as an insult. It was never serious.” 

“And if you could turn back time, what would you have said differently?” 

Mark wipes his eyes, tucking his hair behind his ears. He needs to get it cut soon but he keeps putting it off. 

“I love him. I’d tell him I love him.” His breath catches. Harriet pulls him into a hug as he starts to genuinely cry. God, he loves Ethan. He does. He loves him and he could die not knowing that. He could die and their last conversation would’ve been Mark trying to convince them both that he doesn’t love him. But he does. He does. 

“He knows. Hey, Mark, you can’t let anything anyone says stop you from loving someone, okay? Even if it’s yourself. Even if you’re scared shitless, you have to accept that you can’t control who you fall for.” 

She pulls away from the hug and wipes his tears away. 

“I guess I just—“

“Mr. Fischbach?” 

Mark stands up immediately, heart kicking up speed. 

“Is-is—“

“He’s alive. He’s not awake yet but you can see him.” 

Mark nods, moving to follow, but he stops and turns around, nearly tripping in his haste to hug Harriet. 

“Thank you.” He whispers to her. She just smiles and watches him go. He glances back a few times and she’s still smiling. 

“It’s only been three hours.” Mark says once he’s alone with the surgeon in the elevator. 

“Yes, well, there were no complications, and we removed all of the tumour. Now, it’s unlikely that it will come back, but if he has any symptoms make sure to bring him for a scan.” 

“Of course. When do you think he’ll wake up?” 

“It’s varies from patient to patient. His body has been through a lot today, with the crash and a brain surgery, so it could take anywhere from an hour to a few days. Also, we won’t know if he suffered any deficits until he wakes up, so when he does make sure you call someone in to give him a check up.” 

They step out of the elevator and make their way down the hall. 

Ethan’s room is dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright blinding lights he’s used to seeing in tv shows and movies. 

Mark stops in the doorway, stomach turning at the sight. Ethan’s hooked up to different tubes from his mouth and arm. His face is bruised badly, with stitched up cuts visible on his cheek and his arms. His entire head is wrapped in bandages, one wrist in a cast. 

“The red button will call a nurse. Press it if anything changes.” 

“Thank you.” Mark murmurs, stepping further into the room. He shucks off his coat and sits at the chair next to Ethan’s bed. 

After a few long minutes of just listening to the beeping of his monitor, Mark finally reaches out, hesitantly taking Ethan’s hand. It’s cold. Not dead cold, but cold like his room could use more blankets. 

“You scared the shit out of me, man. Like..you always think those family members in tv shows are overreacting until you’re the one in the waiting room.” He doesn’t know why he’s talking, knowing Ethan isn’t awake, but the room is just weirdly quiet and he hates to sit and do nothing. 

“I spent the last three hours talking to this woman, Harriet. You’d love her. She’s really great. I’ve never met someone who’s so easy to talk to before. It might have something to do with her counsellor experience, maybe.” He huffs a laugh, looking at the boy as if he’s checking to see if he’s smiling too. He’s not. His lip is cut. It’ll be painful when he brushes his teeth. 

Mark takes a deep breath, picking up Ethan’s hand and holding it to his cheek while he cries. 

“I’m sorry. For everything I said. None of it was true. I’m the one with the fucking weird crush, okay? God, I guess it’s always been there nagging at the back of my mind but I just..I didn’t want to mess what we had up. Then I did anyway. Fuckin’ hell.” He sets Ethan’s hand down so he can wipe away his tears, annoyed at his own emotions. He’s cried so much today that he might be a little worried about dehydration. 

“Please..just wake up as you. Just wake up with your memory and your eyesight. Wake up with proper motor function. Just wake up, okay? I don’t want to spend my life hoping you can hear me say I love you deep down somewhere in there.” With a shaky breath, Mark stands up, leaning over the bed and pressing a kiss to Ethan’s forehead. The only unbruised part of his face. 

He lifts away and sees movement out of the corner of his eye. The walls and doors are glass here. Looking over, he finds its Ethan’s dad and stepmom. His dad stands with a hand on the door handle, eyes wide. 

Mark lifts away from the boy, stomach turning. Ethan’s dad steps into the room, eyes switching between his son and Mark. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t, I’m not—“

“Mark,” Ethan’s dad sighs, pulling him into a hug. Mark hugs him right back, relief flooding through him, “it’s alright. He’s talked about you two for years, it’s not new.” 

“We aren’t, uh, together.”

“I know, but he’s talked about you.” Ethan’s dad smiles and pulls away, taking the seat next to his son. Ethan’s stepmom is already there, a hand on the boy’s chest. 

“I’m going to get a water, you two want anything?” Mark asks. They thank him but decline. He leaves the room to give them privacy, watching through the glass door for a minute. 

Then, he’s walking. The elevator is too slow so he takes the stairs, finding his way through the maze of hallways and doors back to the quiet waiting room. 

Harriet’s seat is empty. 

Frowning, Mark walks over to the counter. 

“Hey, there was an elderly woman here. Harriet—“

“Oh, yes! She thought you might come back down. She wanted to give you this.” The nurse hands him an envelope. It has ‘Mark’ written on the front in nice cursive font. 

“I don’t understand, she was waiting for her husband to get out of surgery. He’s supposed to be getting a heart transplant for like, four more hours or something.” 

The nurse’s friendly smile falls. She clicks at her computer screen like she’s confirming her thoughts. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Her husband died in surgery three hours ago. He never received the transplant. It says here he suffered a stroke.” 

Mark can only stare in surprise. He thinks back over his night talking with the woman. Her smile and laugh and great advice. Her husband died just before Mark arrived? Is that why she was crying when he first saw her? Why didn’t she tell him? Why did she stay with him that whole time? 

Mark frowns and looks down at the envelope, finally tearing it open. Inside, there’s a note and an old wallet photo. 

‘Mark, 

Life can end in an instant. Enjoy your love, and never fall asleep angry with each other. Thank you for letting me into your story. Here’s a piece of mine: a photo of me and my Peter when we first fell in love. 

I hope we may cross paths again,

Harriet.’ 

Mark looks at the black and white photo. It’s a young Harriet, maybe 18 or 19, standing with a man who looks a little older. It’s sweet. He places the photo back into the envelope and tucks it safely into his pocket. 

The vending machine takes his first dollar so he just sulks back to Ethan’s room, kinda pouting along the way. He’d wanted to show Harriet Ethan. He had his phone this whole time, why did he never show a picture? Or even just get the woman’s number??

Ethan’s stepmom is waiting for him outside of the room. He breaks into a run. 

“He’s okay! He’s awake.” She calls out as soon as he’s close enough. He skids to a stop, looking with wide eyes through the glass. A nurse is removing the tube from his mouth while his dad is crying. 

“Is he..” 

“He’s just fine. They already did the check up. He was a bit muffled from the tube but he was asking for you pretty much right away.” 

“Me?” Mark suddenly feels nervous for some reason. He watches Ethan touch his own face gingerly, saying something to his dad. 

His dad then looks over to Mark with a point. Ethan touches at a remote and lifts his bed up just a tad, looking at him through the glass. 

Ethan’s dad then stands up and leaves the room. 

“Go ahead. He wants to see you.” The man says, clapping him on the back. 

“Okay.” Mark quietly enters the room, making his way over to the bed. Instead of sitting on the chair, he sits on the edge of the bed, taking Ethan’s outstretched hand. 

“How bad is it?” The boy asks, voice rough from lack of use. Mark takes out his phone and snaps a photo of the boy’s face, showing him. 

“I look like shit.” He mumbles, trying to frown but making a noise when that stretches his lip cut. 

“I love you.” Mark blurts. Ethan huffs a laugh, squeezing his hand. 

“I love you too.” 

“No, like, not just a friendly—“

“I know, Mark.” Ethan sighs, pulling him in. Mark leans over him. He can’t kiss him with his injuries, so he just lies his head next to the boy’s, pressing a small kiss to his neck there. Ethan holds him, face turned towards him. It’s really nice. 

“When you were asleep, I said a lot of stuff. I asked you to wake up okay. I said I was sorry for everything.” 

He feels Ethan smile against his cheek. The boy plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, his heart monitor beeping just a tad quicker than it was when he was asleep. 

“I know. I heard you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your thoughts in the comments. More fics coming soon, I swear 😭💚


End file.
